Theory
by tinseltowns
Summary: What could possibly stop Fitz from getting any chance of getting close to Clare? Maybe if he was too busy purging to engage in conversation, he'd have her all to himself, and the night would go just as he'd planned.


**A/N:** So, I put this off for a while now, and I thought I'd post it, for the hell of it. Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Theory<strong>

"So, how are you?"

"How am I?" Eli scoffed, shaking his head as he slid the tray across the metal bars, moving with the traffic of the lunch line. Adam nodded, raising his eyebrows. He sighed, laughing sardonically to himself, taking a few steps to the side.

"Well, let's rewind; my new girlfriend, whom I've been friends with for three months, is going to the school dance with my arch rival. All things considered, my life is turning into a bittersweet hell." He bit the inside of his cheek, pausing, looking back to his friend. "I hate him. For tricking her into going with him, using her to get back at me for that stupid tip-off. I'm such an idiot," he continued, gripping the tray tighter and tighter with each word.

Adam flashed him a half-smile, laying a hand on his shoulder. He cocked his head to the side, quickly eyeing the chip display before returning his gaze to his friend. "Listen, man, she's not doing this because she wants to go with him. She's doing this for you. I guess she wants to, like, protect you or something." Eli's eyes narrowed, staring blankly at nothing.

"That's my job. _I__'__m_supposed to protect _her_," he insisted. He was the boyfriend, the so-called dominant figure in this newborn relationship. He knew that if she went to Vegas Night with Fitz, that he'd try something; he wasn't fooling anyone. It was Mark Fitzgerald, the school bully, asshole, pig, whatever. It made him sick just thinking about his hands on her waist, Clare's waist, his lips on her lips. He bit his tongue, the mental image sending a wave of nausea through his body. It was disgusting.

"Dude, you need to relax. Clare really likes you. And I mean _really_ likes you. It's actually kinda weird," Adam said. He wrinkled his nose, pretending to shudder at the thought of his two best friends together. Eli rolled his eyes, muttering a 'shut up' under his breath. Reaching the end of the lunch line, he dug out a few one-dollar bills from his pocket, handing them to the cashier before stepping out of line, turning back, and waiting for Adam. A pensive look was on the sandy-haired boy's face as he looked at the racks of snack foods; he'd point to one and open his mouth, only to close it again, and go back to his thoughts.

"Adam," Eli called, a smirk on his face.

He turned around, looking slightly confused. "What?"

"There are other people waiting. I hope you realize that," he said, gesturing towards the line of people, some looking more impatient than others. Adam made a face, grabbing a bag of potato chips and handing the cashier the money. A blush spread across his cheeks as he looked back, shuddering as he walked beside Eli. He shoved his shoulder lightly, shaking his head as he walked towards their usual table.

"Hey, if you wanna fight, you're in for it," Eli teased. "Nah, I'm fine. I wouldn't want you to get your ass kicked in front of all these people," Adam mused, taking a seat. Eli flashed him a sarcastic smile, setting his tray down on the linoleum. "You're a true humanitarian." Adam shrugged, leaning back in his seat with confidence, opening the bag of chips and popping one into his mouth confidently.

Eli sat beside him, toying with the cap of his water bottle. He couldn't help but think about how incredibly unfair this whole situation was, how much he wanted to run Fitz down with his car, how he wanted to be the hero, to rescue Clare from the clutches of his menacing enemy. He wanted to be her knight in shining armor, the one to protect her to his dying day. He wanted to be there for her, and he wanted to keep her, all to himself. This dance, this whole damn situation, had put a roadblock in his plans. He just wanted to be able to hold her in his arms, to dance with her and make stupid jokes and admire her, without feeling the incessant pressure and hearing that voice in the back of his head that he was staring at her and needed to look away before she caught him.

Adam eyed the bag of half-empty chips furtively, trying to decide if he had enough time to finish the bag. His head snapped over in Eli's direction, his face lighting up. "Dude, I was watching this movie last night, an-"

"Really," Eli mused, leaning his face onto his hand in mock-interest. Adam rolled his eyes, shoving his friend's shoulder lightly. "Anyway, the movie was about this guy, this secret-agent type guy, who went around a party poisoning his enemy's drinks with…"

He paused, pressing his brows to a line, muttering motivational words to himself in an attempt to jog his memory. "It started with an 'i', I just can't remember." Eli raised his eyebrows; he knew right away, before he'd even said it. "Ipecac?" he replied, leaning his elbows onto the table. Adam nodded, a grin on his face. "The dude put ipecac into the bad guy's drink, and then he started…"

Eli tuned out his friend's play-by-play, his mind racing a mile a minute. What could possibly stop Fitz from getting any chance of getting close to Clare? Maybe if he was too busy purging to engage in conversation, he'd have her all to himself, and the night would go just as he'd planned. "Adam, you've just given me a brilliant idea," he smirked, clapping his friend on the back. Adam flashed him a confused look, raising his eyebrows. "Huh? What did I do? Not that I mind the credit for one of your infamous ideas, but what exactly is it?"

"You'll see."


End file.
